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Fifty 
Odes  of  Horace 


ENGLISHED  BY 

William  Hathorn  Mills 


SAN  BBKNAKUINO,  CALIFORNIA 

BARNUM  &.  FLAGG  COMPANY 

19  2  0 

COPYRIGHT 


7 


<  ■  78  5^ 


PREFACE 

In  the  preparation  of  these  versions  I  consulted 
with  advantage  Mr.  Page's  abbreviated  edition  of 
Horace.  But  my  debt  of  debts  was  to  my  memories 
of  the  days  when  I  sat  at  the  feet  of  Arthur  Gray 
Butler,  Head-Master  of  Haileybury  School  in  the 
early  Sixties. 

W.  H.  M. 


41855T 


^ 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Od.  I.  1 7 

Od.  I.  3 8 

Od.  I.  5 9 

Od.  I.  6 10 

Od.  I.  7 11 

Od.  I.  8 12 

Od.  I.  13 12 

Od.  I.  15 13 

Od.  I.  19 14 

Od.  I.  23 15 

Od.  I.  24 15 

Od.  I.  27 16 

Od.  I.  28 17 

Od.  I.  29 18 

Od.  I.  31 19 

Od.  I.  32 20 

Od.  I.  33 20 

Od.  I.  34 21 

Od.  I.  35 21 

Od.  I.  36 28 

Od.  I.  37 28 

Od.  I.  38 24 

Od.  II.  1 25 

Od.  II.  2 26 

Od.  II.  4 27 

Od.  II.  7 28 

Od.  II.  11 29 

Od.  II.  12 80 

Od.  II,  13 : 31' 

Od.  II.  15 82 

Od.  II.  17 88 

Od.  II.  18 84 

Od.  II.  19 85 

Od.  II.  20 86 


Od.  III.  1 87 

Od.  III.  8 88 

Od.  III.  4 40 

Od.  III.  6 48 

Od.  III.  7 44 

Od.  III.  8 46 

Od.  III.  9 46 

Od.  III.  12 47 

Od.  III.  17 48 

Od.  III.  20 .48 

Od.  III.  21 49 

Od.  III.  25 50 

Od.  III.  28 60 

Od.  IV.  2 61 

Od.  rv.  3 68 

Od.  IV.  11 68 


Od.  L  I. 

MAECENAS,  heir  of  ancient  kings,  my  heart's 
dear  pride,  my  guardian: 

In     chariot-races     some    delight    to     gather     dust 

Olympian, 
Whom  post,  just  missed  by  glowing    wheels,     and 

victory's  palm  Palladian, 
Make  gods  on  earth;  this  man  exults  if  fickle  mobs 

lift  him  on  high. 
With  threefold  honours;  that,  if  Libya's  produce  fills 

his  granary. 
Attalic  wealth  would  never  move  one,  glad  to  hoe  his 

sire's  domain. 
To  plough,  a  frightened  mariner,  in  Cyprian  galley, 

Myrtos'  main. 
The  merchant,  scared  by  Afric's    war    with    waves 

Icarian,  magnifies 
Home's  rural  ease,  but  soon  refits,  unused  to  want, 

his  argosies. 
There's  one  who  scorns  not  Massic  old,  nor  hours 

snatched  from  the  working  day. 
Stretched  'neath  green  arbutus,     or     where     some 

sacred  fount's  rills  softly  play. 
Full  many  love,  what  mothers  hate,  wars,  camps, 

horns'  scream,  and  trumpets'  blare. 
The  hunter  keen,  young  bride  forgot,  still  lingers  in 

the  chilly  air. 
When  his  good  hounds  have  viewed  a  hind,  or  Mars- 

ian  boar  has  burst  his  nets' 
Strong  toils.    Me  ivy,  meed  of  brows  poetic,  'mid  the 

high  Gods  sets. 


8 

Me  the  cool  grove,  and  fleet  Nymphs  trooped  with 

Satyrs,  sever  from  the  throng, 
If  but  Euterpe's  j^ute,  and  sweet  Polymnia's  harp, 

cease  not  their  song. 

Rank  me  with  lyric  bards;  my  head  shall  smite  the 
stars,  their  choirs  among. 

Od.  I.  3. 

FOR  this  may  Cyprus'  Goddess-Queen,  and  Helen's 
brethren  bright, 
And  the  winds'  Sire,  releasing  but  lapyx  from 
his  cave, 
O  ship,  whose  ward  our  Virgil  is,  direct  your  course 
aright, 
So^  landing  hira  on  Attic  shore,  my  being's  half 
you  save. 
His  breast  was  armed  with  triple  bronze  and  oak, 
who  to  rude  seas 
First  trusted  his  frail  bark,  nor  feared  squalls 
of  Sirocco  fell. 
Battling  it  out  with  Aquilo,  nor  rainy  Hyades, 

Nor  Notus,  arbiter  whose  will  bids  Hadria  sink 
or  swell. 
What    death    feared    he,    who    saw    dry-eyed    the 
monsters  of  the  deep; 
Saw  the  rough  main,  the    Thunder-Heights    of 
infamous  renown? 
If  impious  galleons  none  the  less  o'er  waves  forbid- 
den leap, 
In  vain  Heaven's  wisdom  parted  lands  by  Ocean's 
sundering  frown. 


9 

Bold  to  endure  all  things,  mankind  rushed  thro'  all 
wickedness; 
Prometheus  bold  brought  fire  to  earth  by  fraud 
unfortunate; 
Soon  as  the  fire  had  left  its  heaven,  strange  fevers 
and  distress 
Swooped  on  the  world,  and  death — till  then  a 
distant  doom  and  late — 
Quickened  its  steps.    Thus  Daedalus,  with  wings  to 
man  denied. 
Tempted  the  void  air;   Hercules  by  toil  broke 
Acheron's  sway; 
Naught  is  too  hard  for  mortal  men,  who  seek  in 
senseless  pride 
The  skies:  whose  sin  forbids  Jove's  ire  to  put  his 
bolts  away. 


Od.  I.  5. 

WHAT  scent-besprinkled  stripling  lad, 
Pyrrha,  would  win  your  favour,  where 
Some  grotto  smiles  with  roses  clad? 

For  whom  bind  you  your  golden  hair, 
Simple,  yet  dainty?     Soon  he'll  weep, 

How   oft!    changed   troth,   changed   deities. 
And  marvel,  as  the  wind-lashed  deep 

Darkens,  and  threats  his  startled  eyes. 
Who  in  his  folly  counts  you  now 

All  gold,  and  hopes  that  free  for  aye 
And  kind  you'll  be,  unwitting  how 

Your  favours  cheat.    Unhappy  they 


10 

On  whom  you  smile  untried.    For  me, 
His  temple-wall  and  tablet  show 

That  to  the  God,  who  rules  the  sea, 

I  hung  my  drenched  robes  long  ago. 


Od.  I.  6. 

BY  Varius,  bird  of  Homer's  strain, 
Shall  you  be  sung  as  hero  wight, 
Leader  on  land  or  on  the  main 

Of  troops  victorious  in  the  fight. 
But  we,  Agrippa,  may  not  tell 

Your  feats,  nor  staunch  Achilles*  wrath. 
Nor  chant  the  house  of  Pelops  fell. 

Nor  sly  Ulysses'  sea-tossed  path. 
Too  weak  our  strength  for  paean-hymn, 

While  honour,  and  a  Muse  who  sways 
A  peaceful  lyre,  forbid  to  dim 

Your  fame  and  Caesar's  with  poor  praise. 
Mars  mailed  in  adamant,  Tydeus'  son. 

By  Pallas  matched  with  Gods  in  might, 
And,  black  with  dust  of  Ilion, 

Meriones — what  pen  could  write 
Of  these?    We  tell  of  banquets;  we 

Sing  lasses  making  fierce  onset 
On  lads  with  pared  nails,  fancy-free, 

Or,  if  love-fired,  light-hearted  yet. 


u 


Od.  I.  7. 


RHODES,  Mytilene,  Ephesus,  or  Corinth  set  where 
two  seas  foam, 
Thessalian  Tempe,  Bacchus'  Thebes,  or  Delphi, 
seat  of  Phoebus'  pride. 
Others  shall  sing.     Some  only  care  to  hymn  chaste 
Pallas'  Attic  home. 
From  first  to  last,  and  crown  their  brows  with 
olives  plucked  from  every  side. 
In  Juno's  honour  most  will  tell  of  Argos'  steeds, 
Mycenae's  gold. 
Me   Sparta  staunch,   Larisa's  plains,   never  so 
thrilled  as  echoing 
Albuna's  fount,  and  Anio's  rush,  orchards  and  groves 
of  Tibur's  wold, 
And  restless  rills.    As  Notus  oft  clears  darkened 
skies,  nor  loves  to  bring 
Perpetual  rains,  so  be  you  wise,  Plancus,  to  drown 
life's  care  and  grief 
In  mellow  wine,  where  ensigns  light  your  camp, 
or  'neath  your  Tibur's  shade. 
Banished  from  Salamis  and  sire,  yet  Teucer  bound 
with  poplar-leaf 
His  wine-moist  brows,  and  bade  his  friends,  a 
sorrowing  crowd,  be  undismayed. 
"Whithersoever  fate  more  kind  than  sire  shall  lead 
us,  friends,  we'll  fare; 
None  may  despair,  where  Teucer    guides     and 
guards:  Apollo's  truth  has  sworn 
That  a  new  Salamis  shall  rise  elsewhere;  with  wine 
now  banish  care; 


12 

Worse  things  weVe  known,  brave  hearts;  once 
more  we'll  plough  the  main  to-morrow 
mom." 

Od,  L  8. 

COME,  Lydia,  tell  me  why— by  all 
The  Gods  I  beg  you — you  would  lure 
By  love  young  Sybaris  to  his  fall: 

Why  now  he  hates,  who  could  endure 
Sunshine  and  dust,  the  Field,  nor  rides, 

In  soldier's  guise,  among  his  peers: 
Nor  with  toothed  bit  controls  and  guides 

His  Gallic  steed's  mouth;  aye,  and  fears 
Tiber.    Why  would  he  sooner  risk 

Venom  than  oil,  who  never  now 
Bears  bruises,  marks  of  strain — of  disc, 

Or  javelin,  thrown  a  winning  throw? 
Why  lies  he  hid,  as  Thetis'  son 

Lay  hid  ere  Troy's  sad  fall,  they  say, 
Lest  man's  attire  should  speed  him  on. 

With  Lycia's  troops,  to  join  the  fray? 

Od.  I.  13. 

WHEN,  Lydia,  you  praise  the  waxen  arms 
And  rosy  neck  of  Telephus, 
Ah,  then  my  heart  swells  with  the  fierce  alarms 

Of  jealousy  tumultuous. 
Then  reels  my  brain;  my  colour  comes  and  goes; 

Adown  my  cheeks  tears  steal  and  stray — 
Proofs  of  my  inward  anguish — ^with  what  throes, 

What  smouldering  fires,  I  dwine  away. 
Aye,  for  I  bum  when  quarrels  fired  by  wine 


j&i' 


13 

Have  marred  your  shoulders'  argentry: 
When  your  mad  lover^s  teeth  have  set  their  sign 

Upon  your  lips — an  infamy. 
You  would  not  hope,  if  but  to  me  you  list, 

To  keep  him  yours,  whose  brute  offence 
Scars  lips  on  which  Venus  herself  has  kissed 

Her  grace — ^her  nectar's  quintessence. 
Thrice  happy  they,  and  more  than  thrice,  by  bond 

Unbroken  linked,  whose  union 
A  love,  uplift  all  bickerings  beyond. 

Shall  bind  until  life's  day  is  done. 

Od.  I.  15. 

WHAT  time   the  treacherous   shepherd  o'er  the 
deep 

In  Mysian  bark  his  hostess  Helen  bare, 
Then  Nereus  lulled  the  stormy  winds  to  sleep 

Unwelcome,  that  he  might,  as  seer,  declare 
His  doom.    "With  evil  omens  home  you  take 

Her,  whom  the  armies  of  the  Hellene  name. 
Sworn  to  lay  waste  Priam's  old  realm,  and  break 

Your  marriage-bond,  shall,  as  one  man,  reclaim. 
Ah  me,  what  agonies  threat  man  and  steed! 

What  mischiefs  for  the  Dardan  race — ^what  dire 
Ruin — you  stir!    Pallas,  to  meet  the  need. 

Gets  ready  helm,  shield,  chariots,  battle-ire. 
In  vain,  as  counting  Venus  your  ally. 

You'll   comb   your  long  locks,  and   to   peaceful 
harp 
Sing  songs  that  women  love;  in  vain  youll  fly 

In  nuptial  room  fell  spears,  and  arrows  sharp 
Of  Gnossian  cane,  the  battle's  stour  and  boom. 


14 

The  swift  pursuit  of  Ajax — all  in  vain 
Your  flights;  for  spite  of  all,  tho*  late  your  doom, 

Your  locks  adulterous  with  dust  you'll  stain. 
See  you  not  on  your  trail  Laertes'  son, 

Bane  of  your  race,  and  Nestor,  Pylos'  sage  ? 
Teucer  of  Salamis  presses  hard  upon 

Your  heels,  and  Sthenelus,  well  skilled  to  wage 
War,  or,  if  steeds  need  rule,  keen  charioteer, 

A  dauntless  pair.    Aye,  and  you'll  learn  to  know 
Meriones.    More  than  his  sire's  peer, 

Lo,  Diomede  hunts  you,  raging,  even  now: 
Whom  you — as  a  scared  stag  flies,  soon  as  he 

Has  spied  a  wolf,  crouched  on  the  vale's  far  side. 
Herbage  forgot — ^with  panting  gasps  will  flee. 

Not  this  the  life  you  promised  to  your  bride. 
The  day  of  doom  for  Troy  and  Phrygian  dames 

Achilles'  angry  warships  will  delay. 
After  fixed  winters'  term,  Achaian  flames 

Shall  waste  the  homes  of  Ilion  for  aye." 


Od.  I.  19. 

THE    cruel    mother   of   the    Loves,    and    Theban 
Semele's  winged  Son, 
And  sportive  License  call  me  back  to  wars  I  fought 

in  bygone  days. 
Its  fires — that  sheen  of  Glycera's  grace,  more  purely 

bright  than  Parian  stone! 
It  fires — ^her  pretty  petulance:  her  face  that  dazzles 

eyes  that  gaze! 
Venus  has  flung  herself  on  me  from  Cyprus,  nor 

would  have  me  sing 


15 

Of  Parthian  fighting  as  he  flies,  of  Scyths,  of  things 

that  matter  not. 
Place  me  a  live  turf  here,  my  boys,  vervain  and 

incense;  aye,  and  bring 
Two-year  old  wine.     A  victim  slain,  she'll  come  in 

gentler  mood,  I  wot. 

Od.  L  23. 

/^  HLOE,  you  always  fly  from  me 
^^     Just  like  a  fawn,  that  heedlessly 

Has  lost,  and  seeks  to  find 
On  pathless  hills  its  mother  dear. 
With  many  a  vain  and  empty  fear 

Of  leaves  and  whispering  wind. 
For  whether  the  glad  month  of  May 
Has  brought  its  frolic  winds  to  play 

And  rustle  thro*  the  trees, 
Or  lizards  green  have  pushed  their  way 
Thro*  bramble-bushes,  as  they  stray. 

It  quakes  in  heart  and  knees. 
Yet  my  pursuit  of  you  is  not 
That  of  a  tigress  fierce,  or  what 

A  desert  lion's  rage 
Threatens;  you  need  your  mother's  care 
No  lonirer,  Chloe,  for  you  are 

Of  marriageable  age. 

Od,  I.  24. 

WHAT  thought  of  shame  could  bound  our  fond 
regret 
For  one  so  dear?    Melpomene,  thou,  whose  lyre 
And  liquid  voice  are  gifts  of  the  Great  Sire, 


16 

Prompt  us  a  dirge  to  pay  our  sorrow's  debt. 

What,  can  it  be  tiiat  on  Quintilius  weighs 

Eternal  sleep?    Ah,  who  shall  find  his  peer? 
Good  Faith  and  Right,  twin  sisters,  Truth  sin- 
cere. 

And  Honour — can  they  ever  match  his  praise? 

True  souls — ^how  many! — wept  his  untimely  end; 
None  more  than  you,  my  Virgil,  who  witii  vain 
Prayers  claim  him  of  the  high  Gods,  and  com- 
plain 

That  not  thus  was  he  given  you  as  a  friend. 

But,  even  if,  with  more  persuasive  art 

Than  Thracian  Orpheus  ever  owned,  you  swayed 
A  lyre  that  trees  obeyed,  the  empty  shade 

Would  nevermore  feel  life-blood  thrill  its  heart, 

That  Mercury,  too  deaf  to  hear  our  cry, 

And  roll  back  fate,  has  grimly  waved  below 
To  his  dark  flock.    HTis  hard;  yet,  even  so, 

Patience  can  ease  what  naught  can  remedy. 


Od.  I,  27, 

To  fight  with  goblets  is  a  Thracian  p'ame; 
For  pleasure  were  they  made — ^for  jollity; 
Out  on  the  barbarous  custom!    Do  not  shame 

With  bloody  brawls  good  Liber's  modesty. 
Twixt  Persian  glaive  and  banquets  brightly  lit, 

What  an  enormous  gap!   Gap  let  it  rest. 
Stay,  friends,  your  impious  noise;  away  with  it. 

And  keep  your  elbows  to  your  cushions  prest. 
What,  am  I  too  to  drink  a  share  to-day 

Of  strong  Falemian?     Then  let  yon  boy, 
Opuntian  Megilla's  brother,  say 


17 

What  wound,  what  shaft,  has  been  his  fatal  joy. 
Unwilling  are  you  ?    Well,  not  otherwise 

Will  I  turn  toper.     Whatsoever  Queen 
You  serve,  she  will  not  smirch  you  in  our  eyes, 

For,  if  your  love  be  wrong,  it  is  not  mean. 
Come,  trust  your  secret  to  safe  ears  and  true. 

Ah,  hapless  one,  what  an  abyss  of  shame, 
"What  a  Charybdis,  had  inveigled  you. 

Poor  boy — and  you  worthy  a  better  flame ! 
What  witch,  what  wizard,  with  Thessalian  drugs, 

What  God,  will  have  the  power  to  set  you  free? 
Scarcely  from  this  threefold  Chimaera's  hugs 

Will  Pegasus  win  you  your  liberty. 


Od.  I.  28. 

YOU  measured  ocean,  earth,  sands  numberless, 
Archytas;  now  a  little  dust  bestowed 
Upon  your  ashes  keeps  you  in  duress 

By  Matine  shore;  nor  boots  it  that  you  rode 
In  spirit  thro'  the  skies,  and  clomb  the  vault 

Of  heaven,  for  you  were  bound  to  die  at  last. 
So  too  died  Pelops'  sire,  tho'  guest  exalt 

Of  Gods;  so  into  air  Tithonus  passed; 
So  Minos  too,  Jove's  confidant;  and  so 

Panthous*  son  in  Tartarus  yet  stays 
Perforce,  to  Orcus  sent  again,  what  tho* — 

The    shield    he    claimed    witnessed    his    Trojan 
days — 
Black  death  had  naught  of  him  but  skin  and  nerves, 

Who  to  your  mind  was  an  exponent  high 
Of  Nature's  truths.    Once  and  for  ever  serves 

Death's  path;  one  night  waits  all  humanity. 


18 

Others  the  Furies  give  to  jflad  Mars*  eyes; 

The  grreedy  sea  on  sailors'  bones  is  fed; 
Old  lives  and  young  make  one  long  sacrifice; 

Persephone  never  spared  a  single  head. 

Me  too  slew  Notus  on  the  Illsn-ian  sea — 

Notus  of  prone  Orion  comrade  swift. 
But  you,  O  sailor,  grudge  not  churlishly 

My  bones  and  head  unburied  a  small  gift 
Of  shifting  sand.    So  may  you  ever  be 

Safe,  tho*  Venusia's  woods  be  tempest-struck: 
However  Eurus  threat  the   Western   sea: 

And  Jove,  its  fount,  grant  you  good  meed  of  luck, 
And   Neptune,  blest  Tarentum's   sure   defence. 

Think  you  it  were  a  little  thing  to  do 
A  deed  would  hurt  your  children's  innocence? 

Nay,  on  yourself  may  fall  the  vengeance  due, 
And  haught  requital.     Not  in  vain  I  pray; 

No  expiation  will  your  debt  release; 
Your  haste,  I  guess,  will  brook  this  slight  delay; 

Cast  but  three  casts  of  dust;  then  go  in  peace. 

Od.  I.  2g. 

TJ^HAT,  Iccius?     Is  your  heart  now  set 
^^  On  Arabs'  wealth,  and  would  you  wage 
On  Saba's  kingfs,  untamed  as  yet. 

Fierce  wars,  and  curb  the  Parthians'  rage 
By  shackles?     What  barbarian  fair, 

Her  lover  slain,  your  beck  shall  bide? 
What  boy,  from  palace  brought,  with  hair 

Perfumed,  shall  stand  your  cup  beside, 
Once  trained  to  bend  the  Seric  bow. 


/^dte'^ 


19 

His  father  bent?     Who  could  deny 
That  up  steep  mounts  rivers  may  flow, 

And  Tiber  turn  back,  when  you  try 
To  change  for  Spanish  mail  books  bought 

On  all  sides — ^visions  high  of  truth. 
By  Stoics  and  Socratics  taught, 

And  break  the  promise  of  your  youth? 

Od,  I.  31. 

WHAT  does  his  bard  ask  of  divine 
Apollo  in  his  new-built  fane? 
What — as  he  pours  cups  of  new  wine? 

Not  rich  Sardinia's  wealth  of  grain: 
Not  India's   gold  or  ivory: 

Not  hot  Calabria's  pastures,  gay 
With  herds:  not  lands  where  quietly 

Still  Liris  frets  its  silent  way. 
Let  those,  whose  luck  it  is  to  own 

Calenian  vineyards,  prune  their  vines. 
That  so  some  merchant  of  renown 

May  drink  from  golden  cups  their  wines. 
For  Syrian  wares.    Heaven's  favourite,  he, 

Because,  forsooth,  three  times  a  year. 
Or  four,  he  sails  successfully 

The  Atlantic  main.     I  have  for  cheer 
My  olives,  chicory,   mallows  light. 

Grant  me,  Apollo,  for  the  rest. 
Contentment,  health,  sound  wits  and  bright. 

An  honoured  eld,  by  music  blest. 


20 


Od,  I.  32. 

THEY  bid  us  sing.    If  aught,  my  lyre, 
We  two  have  played  in  shelters  dim, 
Idly,  come,  prompt  a  Latin  hymn. 

Of  which  the  years  shall  never  tire. 

Thee  first  the  Lesbian,  bold  in  war, 

Tuned,  as  the  battle  came  and  passed, 
Or  oft  as  he  had  moored  at  last 

His  storm-tossed  bark   on   the   wet  shore, 

Who  sang  of  Liber,  and  the  wise 
Muses,  of  Venus,  to  whose  arm 
Ever  the  Boy  clings,  of  the  charm 

Of  Lycus*  dark  hair  and  dark  eyes. 

Pride  of  Apollo's  heart,  and  dear 
To  Jove  at  banquets,  solace  blest 
Of  toil,  whene'er  I  make  request 

Aright,  be  kind,  my  lyre,  and  hear. 

Od.  I.  33. 

THAT,  Albius,  too  bitter  memories 
Of  Glycera's  unkindness  may  not  break 
Your  heart,  and  prompt  too  mournful  elegies 

Telling  why,  for  some  younger  lover's  sake. 
Her  faith  is  falsed,  think  how  Lycoris,  fair 

With  narrow  brows,  for  Cyrus  bums,  while  he 
Turns  to  coy  Pholoe;  but  roes  will  pair 

Sooner  with  wolves  Apulian,  than  will  she 
Sin  for  a  lover  whom  she  reckons  vile. 

So  wills  it  Venus — she,  whose  bronzen  yoke 
Joins  forms  and  souls  unequal  all  the  while. 

Aye,  such  her  will,  and  such  her  cruel  joke! 


21 

As  for  myself,  what  time  a  better  fate 

Sought  me,  I  was  enthralled  by  Myrtale, 

The  freedwoman — a  soul  more  passionate 

Than  waves  that  fret  Calabria — Hadria's   sea. 

Od.  I.  34- 

A  CHARY  worshipper  of  Gods  and  rare, 
When,  expert  in  a  mad  philosophy, 
I  strayed,  now  must  I  put  about,  and  bear 

Up  for  the  port  I  left,  and  once  more  try 
Forsaken  paths;  for  the  Sky-Father,  who 

Is  wont  to  part  the  thunder-clouds  on  high 
With  lightnings,  lately  drove  thro'  heaven's  clear  blue 

His  thundering  steeds  and  flying  car,  whereby 
The  sluggfish  earth  and  wandering  rivers,  aye, 

And  Styx,  and  the  abominable  Hoe 
Of  Taenarus,  and  Atlas,  boundary 

Of  the  wide  world,  staggered,  reel  to  and  fro. 
God  can  change  heights  for  depths:  can  lower  the 
proud, 

And  raise  the  mean;  as  Harpy  on  the  wing. 
From  this  man's  head  Fortune,  with  hurtlings  loud, 

Snatches  his  crown,  to  crown  another  king. 

Od.  I.  35- 

GODDESS,  who  rulest  Antium  dear: 
Who  can'st  from  lowest  depths  uplift 
Mortals,  or  change,  by  sudden  shift. 
Triumphal  car  to  funeral  bier, 
Thee  the  poor  rustic  courts  with  bene 
Urgent;  who  dares  Carpathian  sea 


In  bark  Bithynian,  worships  thee, 

Whoe'er  he  be,  as  Ocean's  Queen. 

States,  cities,  Latium's  chivalry. 
Fierce  Dacian,  nomad  Scythian, 
Mothers  of  king^s  barbarian, 

Empurpled  monarchs,  bow  to  thee, 

Lest  in  the  dust  thy  proud  foot  lay 
The  Column  of  the  State,  and  cry 
Of  thronging  crowds  bid  laggards  fly 

To  arms!    To  arms! — and  break  their  sway. 

Before  thee  stalks  stem  Destiny; 

Her  bronzen  hands  hold  grapples  dread, 
And  beam-like  nails,  and  molten  lead, 

And  wedges — fate's  machinery. 

Hope  loves  thee;  aye,  and,  clothed  in  white, 
Faith,  a  rare  Grace,  nor  quits  thy  side 
Whene'er  in  wrath  from  homes  of  pride. 

With  changed  attire,  thou  takest  flight. 

But  faithless  crowd,  and  perjured  quean, 
Fall  back,  and  when  the  cask  is  dry, 
But  for  its  dregs,  friends  fickle  fly, 

To  share  the  yoke  too  false,  too  mean. 

Keep  Caesar  safe,  what  time  he  goes 
To  Britain,  at  the  world's  end  set. 
And  our  new  levies,  raised  to  threat 

The  Indian  seas  and  Eastern  foes. 

Shame  on  the  scars  set  upon  kin 

By  kin!    An  iron  age,  what  have  we 
Held  sacred — ^what  impiety 

Left  unattempted?     From  what  sin 

Has  fear  of  Heaven  made  Rome's  youth  flee? 
What  altars  has  it  spared?     Anneal 
In  a  new  forge  our  blunted  steel. 

For  Arabs  and  Massagetae. 


Od,  L  36. 

WITH  incense,  harp,  and  votive  calf,  will  we 
Gladly  appease  the  Gods  of  Numida — 
The   Guardian   Presences,   whose   ministry 

Has  brought  him  safe  from  far  Hesperia. 
Full  many  a  kiss  he  shares  with  trusty  feres; 

With  Lamia  most  of  all,  remembering 
How,  in  the  long-ago  of  boyhood's  years, 

One  leader  led  them  both — one  school-boy  king; 
And  how  they  donned  their  togas  side  by  side. 

Let  the  fair  day  be  marked  with  whitest  chalk; 
Let  the  broached  amphora  not  grudge  its  pride. 

And  at  the  Salian  romp  let  no  foot  baulk. 
Nor  let  that  toper,  Damalis,  surpass 

Bassus  at  swallowing  cupfuls  Thracian-wise; 
Let  roses,  lilies,  too  short-lived,  alas! 

And  parsley  green,  grace  the  festivities. 
All  eyes  will  yearn  for  Damalis,  but  she 

To  her  new  paramour  will  stick,  I  wot: 
Clinging  to  him  as  ivy  clings  to  tree — 

Tendrils,  whose  clasp  is  as  a  lovers'  knot. 

Od,  I.  37' 

DUMPERS!   Let  free  foot  beat  the  earth! 
*-'    To  drink,  dance,  honour  the  sublime 
Gods*  seats  with  Salian  feasts  and  mirth — 

Comrades,  for  this  'tis  time,  high  time. 
Ere  this  it  had  been  sin  to  bring 

Caecuban   from  forbears'   store-room. 
While  the  mad  queen  was  purposing 

Our  Capitol's  fall,  our  empire's  doom. 


24 

She  with  her  eunuch-horde,  infect 

With  foul  disease,  in  her  mad  pride. 
Drunk  with  good  fortune,  could  expect 

Anything.     But  her  madness  died 
When  of  her  battleships  scarce  one 

Escaped  the  flames,  and  Caesar's  near 
Pursuit  pressed  her,  and  stamped  upon 

Her  wine-besotted  brain  true  fear. 
His  triremes,  as  she  fled,  gave  chase. 

As  falcon  stoops  to  dove,  as  fleet 
Hunter  hunts  hares  in  wintry  Thrace, 

To  catch  and  chain,  in  vengeance  meet, 
This  fateful  monster.    Ah,  but  she 

Claimed  nobler  death,  nor  feared  the  sword 
With  woman's  fear,  nor  secretly 

Sailed  off  some  distant  coast  toward. 
She  saw  her  home  in  ruins  laid, 

Nor  trembled;  resolute  to  take 
Its  deadly  poison,  unafraid 

She  grasped  and  held  the  deadly  snake. 
The  prouder  for  her  will  to  die, 

She  gprudged  Rome's  ships,  this  haughty  dame. 
That  she,  paraded  to  Rome's  eye 

A  discrowned  queen,  should  flaunt  Rome's  fame. 


Od.  I.  38, 

DISPLAYS,  that  Persians  love,  I  hate; 
Lime-braided  chaplets  I  detest; 
It  makes   no   matter  where  the  late 

Rose  lingers;  stay,  my  boy,  your  quest. 


25 

Just  myrtle — that's  enough;  don't  think 
To  better  it;  it  suits,  as  wreath, 

You,  as  you  serve,  me,  as  I  drink, 

My  wine  this   close-trained  vine  beneath. 

Od.  II.  I. 

THE  civil  war,  that  in  Metellus'  year 
Began — its    seeds,    faults,    phases:     Fortune's 
game: 
Chiefs*  dangerous  alliances:  the  smear 

Of  kindred  blood  on  arms — an  impious  shame 
Not  yet  atoned — that  is  your  theme,  a  work 

Beset  by  risks,  by  one  continual  threat; 
Your  feet  are,  as  it  were,  on  fires  that  lurk 

'Neath  treacherous  ashes — fires  that  smoulder 
yet. 
Withdraw  awhile  your  Muse  of  Tragedy 

Austere  from  theatres,  and  then  anon. 
When  you  have  shaped  your  public  history, 

You  shall  resume  your  noble  theme  upon 
Buskin  Cecropian — star  of  oratory 

For  sad  defendants,  or  in  curial 
Debates,  my  Pollio,  whom  your  victory 

Delmatic  crowned  with  bays  perennial. 
E'en  now  our  ears  with  clarions'  threatening  blare 

Are  deafened;   even  now  trumpets  scream  out 
Their  challenge;  even  now  arms'  fiery  glare 

Scares  horse  and  horseman  into  headlong  rout. 
Aye,  and  I  seem  to  hear  of  leaders  wight 

Befouled  with  dust  ennobling:  of  the  whole 
Wide  world,  and  all  its  things,  in  bloody  fight 

Subdued,  save  only  Cato's  stubborn  soul. 


Juno,  and  Afric's  friendly  deities, 

Who  left  the  land,  as  powerless  to  aid. 
Or  to  avenge,  offered  in  sacrifice 

The  victors*  gn*&ndsons  to  Jugurtha's  shade. 
What  plain  is  there  but  what,  by  Latin  gore 

Fattened,  is  witness,  by  the  tombs  it  bears, 
To  impious  battles,  and  the  crash  which  tore 

Down  Italy,  and  rang  in  Parthian  ears? 
What  gulf,  what  streams,  world  over,  will  you  find 

That  know  not  of  our  wretched  strife?    What 
main 
Has  blood  of  Daunians  not  incarnadined? 

What  shore  is  unpolluted  by  its  stain? 
But  lest,  my  sportive  Muse,  you  should  forget 

Your  jokes,  and  start  a  Cean  dirge  again. 
Seek  we  some  Dionaean  grot,  and  let 

A  lighter  quill  temper  your  coming  strain. 


Od.  II.  2. 

AS  silver,  hid  in  greedy  earth, 
Crispus  SallustiuSj  has  no  sheen, 
So  metals  have  for  you  no  worth. 

Unless  use  makes  their  value  seen. 
For  aye  shall  Proculeius'  name 

Be  known  for  fatherly  sympathy 
With  brethren;   him   eternal   Fame 

With  tireless  wing  shall  bear  on  high. 
Larger  you'ld  make  your  empire's  reach 

Subduing  self,  than  if,  made  one, 
Gades  and  Libya — aye,  each 

Carthage — bow^  down  to  you  alone. 


27 

By  self-indulgrence  dropsy  ^ows, 

Nor  casts  out  thirst,  till  from  the  pale 
Body  the  watery  languor  flows, 

And  from  the  veins  the  exciting  bale. 
Unlike  the  crowd,  true  Virtue  parts 

Prahates,  throned  on  Cyrus*  throne, 
From  the  blest  roll  of  happy  hearts. 

And  bids  the  people's  voice  disown 
False  titles,  granting  honours  true — 

Sure  bays,  abiding  sovereignty — 
To  him  who,  with  heaped  wealth  in  view. 

Passes  it,  unregarded,  by. 


Od.  II.  4. 

LEST,  Xanthias  Phoceus,  you  should  be  ashamed 
That  a  mere  handmaid  has  become  your  queen, 
Think  how  of  yore  the  slave  Briseis  tamed 

The  proud  Achilles,  by  her  snowy  sheen. 
Ravished  Tecmessa's  beauty  thrilled  and  won 

Ajax,  the  son  of  Telamon,  her  lord; 
E'en  in  his  hour  of  triumph,  Atreus'  son 

Was  love-fired  by  a  captive  of  his  sword, 
When  the  barbarians,  worsted  in  the  fray. 

Had  fall'n  to  their  Thessalian  conqueror, 
And  Hector's  death  left  Troy  an  easier  prey 

To  Hellas'  hosts,  all  weary  of  the  war. 
Blonde  Phyllis'  parents  may,  for  all  you  know. 

Honour  their  son-in-law,  as  bom  of  high 
Descent;  of  royal  stock  she  is,  I  trow. 

And  mourns  unjust  Penates'  injury. 
Be  sure  that  she,  your  mistress,  has  no  strain 

In  her  of  lowborn  rascaldom  or  shame: 


That  one  so  faithful,  so  averse  from  gain, 

Was  never  bom  of  womb,  would  smirch  your 
name. 

Heart— whole  I  praise  her  arms,  her  bonny  face, 
Her  shapely  ankles;  spurn  all  jealous  fears 

Of  one  who,  hurryinj?  onward  in  life's  race, 
Has  run  the  lustre  closinj?  forty  years. 


Od.  II.  7. 

POMPEY,  who  faced  with  me  in  countless  fights, 
When  Brutus  led  our  war,  supremest  odds. 
Who  has  restored  you,  with  full  civic  rights, 

To  sides  Italian,  and  your  country's  Gods, 
O  earliest  of  my  comrades,  at  whose  side 

I  often  broke  with  wine  the  lingering: 
Day's  irk,  my  temples  wreathed  with  chaplet's  pride, 

My  hair  with  Syrian  ungruent  glistering:? 
With  you  I  shared  Philippi's  headlong  rout. 

My  shield,  in  haste  ignoble,  flung  away, 
When  valour  broke,  and  threatening  boasts  died  out. 

As  chins  rubbed  shameful  dust.    Ah,  well-a  day! 
Me,  in  my  terror,  Mercury  bore  fast. 

Veiled  in  thick  mist,  thoro'  the  grim  mellay; 
But  you  the  battle-wave  sucked  back,  and  cast 

With  boiling  surf  again  into  the  fray. 
Pay  then  the  feast  that  you  are  bound  to  pay 

To  Jove,  and,  wearied  with  the  toils  of  war, 
Come,  and  recline  beneath  my  garden  bay. 

Nor  spare  the  casks  that  wait  you  in  my  store. 
Fill  goblets  bright  with  cheering  Massic  high; 

From  urns  capacious  pour  perfumery; 
Whose  task  is  it  to  hurry  up  and  tie 

Chaplets  of  lissom   parsley,   or,  maybe, 


29 

Of  myrtle?     Whom  will  Venus  now  declare 
The  master  of  the  feast?     My  revelry 

Shall  match  Edonians'.    It  is  sweet,  I  swear, 
When  friends  return,  to  revel  furiously. 


Od,  11.  II. 

WHAT    fierce    Cantabrian,    what    the    Scythian 
braves, 
Parted  by  Hadria's  intervening:  waves, 
Plot,  cease,  Hirpinus  Quinctius,  to  enquire, 
Nor  vex  your  soul  with  passionate  desire 
To  sate  life's  little  need.     From  one  and  all 
The  charm  of  beardless  youth  flies  past  recall, 
As  hoary  eld  withers  the  wanton  heart, 
And  bids  the  sleep  that  comes  at  call  depart. 
Not  always  does  the  self-same  jflory  grace 
Spring-flowers,   nor   wears   the  blushing   moon   one 

face. 
Why  with  the  counsels  of  eternity 
Weary  your  soul,  too  small  for  things  so  high? 
Why  not,  just  as  we  are,  at  ease  beneath 
Tall  plane-tree  or  this  pine,  with  the  sweet  breath 
Of  roses  in  our  gray  locks,  redolent 
Of  nard  Assyrian,  drink  to  our  content 
Wine,  while  we  may  ?    All  gnawing  cares  are  chased 
Bv  Euhius.    What  boy,  with  hastened  haste, 
Will  quench  the  fire  of  our  fiery 
Falernian,  from  the  brook  that  hurries  by? 
Who  from  her  home  will  draw  that  damsel  shy, 
Lyde?     Come,  bid  her  bring  her  ivory 
Cithern  forthwith,  with  neatly  knotted  hair. 
After  the  manner  of  a  Spartan  fair. 


80 


Od.  11. 12. 

You  would  not  wish  that  to  my  peaceful  lyre 
I  should  set  soni^s  of  Hannibal,  the  dire, 
Or  fierce  Numantia's  Ions:  tale  of  war, 
Or  seas  Sicilian  red  with  Punic  firore, 
Or  savage  Lapithae,  or  Hylaeus  flushed 
With  wine,  or  Earth's  Rigantic  offsprinjr,  crushed 
By  Hercules'  stronj?  hand,  at  whose  attack 
Old  Saturn's  bright  home  quaked  in  fear  of  wrack, 
Maecenas;  you  yourself  more  worthily 
Will  tell  of  Caesar  in  prose  history, 
His  fights  and  feats — how  thro*  Rome's  long  parades 
With   necks  enchained  proud  kings  passed   to  the 

shades. 
For  me,  my  Muse  would  have  me  sweetly  praise 
Licymnia,  queen  of  love — ^what  sparkling  rays 
Flaflh  from  her  eyes:  how  true  her  heart  and  leal 
To  mutual  love — its  claim,  and  its  appeal. 
It  misbecomes  her  not  in  any  wyse 
To  dance  in  choirs,  to  bandy  pleasantries. 
To  reach  out  arms  to  maidens  blithe  and  gay, 
Who  join  the  throng  on  Dian's  festal  day. 
Would  you  for  all  that  rich  Achaemenes 
Possessed:  for  Phrygian  Mygdon's  granaries: 
For  Arabs'  homes,  well  stored  with  treasures  fair, 
Barter  one  tress  of  your  Licymnia's  hair, 
When  to  your  burning  lips  she  bends  awry 
Her  neck,  or  shuns,  with  easy  coquetry, 
Kisses,  whose  ravishment  is  more  to  her 
Than  you — and  she  may  be  first  ravisher? 


SI 


Od.  II.  13. 

C^^  an  ill-omened  day,  accursed  tree, 

^^        Did  your  first  planter  plant  you,  and  profane 

The  hand  that  reared  you  to  the  infamy 

Of  country-side,  and  to  descendants'  bane. 
I  could  believe  that  one  so  ruthless  miprht 

Have  broke  a  parent's  neck,  and  stained,  maybe, 
With  blood  of  sleeping:  jruest,  slain  in  the  nijrht. 

His  inmost  chamber;  Colchic  poisons  he 
Handled,  and  whatsoever  any  one 

Has  anywhere  planned  of  sin,  who  on  my  farm 
Set  you,  curst  trunk,  to  fall  one  day  upon 

A  master's  head,  who  never  did  you  harm. 
No  man  from  hour  to  hour  takes  proper  thousrht 

What  he  should  shun;  the  Punic  mariner 
Fears  the  mad  Bosphorus,  but  counts  as  naught 

All  other  risks,  no  matter  whence  or  where. 
The  soldier  fears  the  shafts  shot  in  swift  fiifirht 

By  Parthian  foe;  the  Parthian  fears  the  sryves 
And  prison  of  Rome;  but,  unforeseen,  Death's  misrht 

Has  ever  snatched,  aye,  and  will  snatch,  men's 
lives. 
How  near  were  we  to  seeins:  upon  her  throne 

Dark  Proserpine,  aye,  and  the  judizrement-seat 
Of  Aeacus,  the  separate  Avalon, 

Where  roam  the  blest,  and  Sappho,  with  her 
sweet 
Aeolian  lyre  arraijirninjir  Lesbos'  maids, 

And  you,  Alcaeus,  with  your  golden  quill 
Sounding  a  fuller  elegy  to  the  shades, 

Of  exile's,  war's,  sea's,  woes  complaining  still. 
The  shades  stand  wondering,  as  each  poet  sings 

Songs  worthy  solemn  silence;  but,  with  ear 


82 

Keener  to  drink  in  tales  of  banished  kinsrs 

And  wars,  a  shouldering:  crowd  thronjrs  up  to 
hear. 
What  wonder  when,  dazed  by  those  melodies, 

The  hundred-headed  beast  drops  his  ears'  threat. 
And,  in  the  hair  of  the  Eumenides 

Entwined  and  twist,  their  serpents  cease  to  fret. 
Prometheus,  too,  and  Tantalus,  the  base. 

In  the  sweet  sound  forjfet  their  apronies; 
Nor  does  Orion  lonsrer  care  to  chase 

Lion  that  turns  to  fiRht,  or  lynx  that  flies. 


Od,  II.  15, 

SOON  rejfal  piles  will  leave  no  place 
For  farms;  soon  crowds  will  flock  to  see 
Fishponds  that  claim  a  larjrer  space 

Than  Lucrine  lake;  barren  plane-tree 
Will  turn  the  elm  out;  presently 

Will  violets,  myrtles,  the  whole  round 
Of  sweet  flowers,  shed  their  frajrrancy 

On  oliveyards,  once  fruitful  srround; 
Dense  laurels  will,  as  shields  upborne. 

Stay  the  sun's  darts.     Far  different 
The  use  of  Romulus,  of  unshorn 

Cato,  of  ancient  precedent. 
Then  private  means  were  small;  the  State 

Was  rich;  no  private  colonnade. 
By  ten-foot  rods  delineate. 

Welcomed  the  cool  North  to  its  shade. 
The  casual  sod  misrht  not  be  tossed 

Aside;  cities  and  fanes  alone 
Mi^ht  be  adorned,  at  public  cost — 

So  said  the  law — with  fresh-hewn  stone. 


83 


Od.  II.  17, 

WHY  fret  me  with  laments?    Nor  I, 
Nor  Gods,  would  will  that  you  should  die, 
Maecenas — you,  my  fortune's  stay, 
And  Rlory — ere  I  pass  away. 
Should  fate  untimely  bid  you  die — 
You,  my  soul's  better  half,  ah,  why 
Should  I,  the  other  half,  less  dear, 
Left  but  a  remnant,  linprer  here? 
That  day  shall  brinj:  one  death  to  both. 
Whene'er  you  lead — sure  is  my  oath — 
As  comrades,  side  by  side,  we'll  tread 
The  trail  that's  trodden  by  the  dead. 
Me  nor  Chimaera,  breathing?  fire, 
Shall  wrench  from  you,  nor  Gyas'  ire, 
Resurjfent  with  his  hundred  hands; 
So  will  the  Fates;  so  Rijrht  demands. 
For,  whether  Libra  watches  me, 
Or  Scorpios  fell,  the  tyranny 
Of  my  birth-hour,  or,  siprn  of  bane, 
The  Goat,  who  rules  the  Western  main, 
Our  stars  in  wondrous  wyse  a^ree; 
Thee  Jove's  protectinpr  brilliancy 
Rescued  from  impious  Saturn's  hate, 
And  stayed  the  winp:s  of  rushinj:  Fate, 
When  with  the  cheers  of  thronjfinsr  crowd, 
Thrice-gfiven,  the  theatres  were  loud; 
Me  the  curst  tree,  that  well  nigh  broke 
My  head,  had  slain,  but  that  the  stroke 
Was  stayed  by  Faunus,  guardian  true 
Of  Hermes'  men.    As  offerings,  you 
Must  give  fat  sheep  and  votive  shrine; 
A  humble  lamb  must  serve  for  mine. 


34 


Od.  II.  i8. 

NO  fretted  ceil,  with  ivory  inwroufirht 
And  fi^>ld,  makes  my  small  home  look  Ray; 
No  slabs  Hymettian  rest  on  columns  brought 

From  Afric  quarries  far  away; 
Nor  has  it  been  my  luck  to  occupy, 

Of  Attalus  an  unknown  heir, 
A  nalace;  nor  do  hifrh-bom  clients  ply 

Me  robes  of  Spartan  purple  fair. 
But  honour  brii^ht,  aye,  and  a  kindly  vein 

Of  genius,  are  mine;  tho'  scant 
My  means,  a  rich  man  courts  me.    I  disdain 

To  pester  Heaven  for  more,  nor  want 
To  irk  my  patron's  soul  with  fresh  appeals, 

Content  and  happy  with  my  one 
And  only  Sabine  farm.     Day  treads  on  heels 

Of  day,  and  new  moons  wane  anon. 
You  on  the  s^rave's  edge  bargain  evermore 

For  marbles  to  be  hewn,  build  homes, 
Of  death  unmindful,  and  would  push  the  shore. 

Where  the  rough  sea  on  Baiae  foams, 
Outward,  as  all  too  straitened  while  the  strand's 

Unbroken  line  curtails  your  sway. 
What  of  the  fact  that  ever  your  rude  hands 

Tear  neighbour's  boundary-stones  away: 
That  you  o'er  leap,  a  robber  unabashed, 

Your  clients'  landmarks?     Out  they  go, 
Bearino"  their  household  Gods,  and  babes  unwashed. 

Husband  and  wife,  to  want  and  woe. 
And  vet  no  hall  more  surely  than  the  grave. 

The  bourn  of  Orcus,  fixed  by  fate, 
Awaits  the  lord  of  riches.     Why,  then,  crave 

More  than  fate  grants,  insatiate? 


Impartial  Earth  opens  her  doors  to  poor 

And  rich  alike,  to  prince  and  swain; 
Gold  never  bribed  Orcus'  assistant  dour 

To  brinpT  Prometheus  back  asrain. 
He  prisons  Tantalus,  the  proud,  and  all 

His  race  and  kind;  called  to  release 
Poor  souls  whose  work  is  done,  he  hears  the  call, 

And  brings — aye,  and  uncalled — ^his  peace. 


Od.  11.  ip. 

BACCHUS  I  saw,  far  rocks  among — 
Believe  it  all  posterity — 
Dictating  hymns  to  a  rapt  throng — 

Satyrs  goat-hoofed,  and  Nymphs  anigh — 
The  Satyrs  all  with  pricked  up  ears. 

Euoi!     My  heart,  fiilled  with  the  God, 
Beats  furiously;  my  mind  still  fears; 

Spare,  Liber  of  the  awful  rod. 
Euoi!    So  may  I  now  recall, 

And  picture,  headstrong  Thyiades, 
Wine-springs,  rivers  of  milk,  the  fall 

Of  honey-drops  from  hollow  trees. 
Mine  too  it  is  to  tell  how  clomb 

Thy  bride  to  heaven,  beatified: 
How  awful  ruin  wrecked  the  home 

Of  Pentheus:  how  Lycurgus  died. 
Thou  rulest  streams  and  barbarous  seas; 

On  far  hills,  bibulous,  dost  entwine 
The  hair  of  the  Bistonides 

With  knotted  snakes,  disarmed  by  wine. 
Thou,  when  the  impious  Giant-horde 

Would  scale  Heaven's  steep,  the  Sire's  domain, 
With  lion's  teeth  and  claws  toward. 


36 

Did'st  hurl  fell  Rhoetus  back  amain. 
Called  God  of  dance  and  sport  and  fun, 

Thou  wert  esteemed  unfit  for  arms; 
Yet  did'st  thou  bear  thyself  as  one 

For  whom  both  war  and  peace  have  charms. 
To  Cerberus,  with  horn  of  srold, 

Thou  wert  as  friend,  whose  tail,  to  srreet 
Thy  cominsf,  stroked  thee:  whose  threefold 

ToniTue  licked  thy  parting  le^rs  and  feet. 


Od,  II,  20. 

NOT  common  and  not  weak  the  wins:  whereon, 
A  bard  of  twofold  nature,  I  shall  soar 
Thro'  the  clear  air;  this  earth  I'll  quit  anon, 

And  leave  its  cities,  lift  for  evermore 
Beyond  all  envy.    Child  of  poverty. 

Yet  called  to  hear,  as  friend,  your  last  farewell, 
Beloved  Maecenas,  I  shall  never  die, 

Nor  brook  restraint  within  the  Styjrian  hell. 
Now,  even  now,  my  leg^s  put  on  rough  skin; 

Above,  a  white  bird  in  the  fashioninj:, 
I  take  new  shape;  shoulders  and  hands  bej^in 

To  wear  a  plumaj^e  smooth  and  jflisterinfl:. 
More  famed  than  Daedalean  Icarus, 

Now  shall  I  visit,  as  a  tuneful  swan, 
Gaetulian  Svrtes,  shores  where  Bosphorus 

Moans,  Northern  Steppes;  Colchian,  and  Dacian, 
Who  fears  the  Marsian  chivalry,  yet  tries 

To  hide  his  fear,  Geloni  over-sea. 
Shall  come  to  know  me;  Spaniard  too,  prrown  wise, 

And  they  who  drink  the  Rhone,  shall  learn  of  me. 


37 

Let  no  dishonouring  wails,  no  elegies, 

No  dirges  sad,  insult  my  empty  bier; 

Speak  softly;  'tis  no  time  for  noisy  cries; 

The  rites  that  honour  tombs  are  useless  here. 

Od.  III.  I. 

1HATE  and  spurn  the  unhallowed  throng; 
Keep  silence,  all,  while  I  dictate, 
Priest  of  the  Muses  laureate, 

To  boys  and  girls  new  forms  of  song. 

Kinoes  claim  their  own  flocks'  fealty; 

To  Jove  the  kings  themselves  bow  down, 
Who  rules  the  wide  world  by  his  frown. 

And  smote  the  Titans  gloriously. 

More  widely  one  plants  trees;  whereas 
One  candidate  of  nobler  birth 
Enters   the   Field,   another's   worth 

Stands  in  high  fame;  another  has 

More  numerous  clients.     All  the  same. 
Ever  and  aye  Necessity 
Dooms  high  and  low  impartially; 

The  vasty  urn  shakes  every  name. 

For  him,  o'er  whom  hangs  the  alarm 
Of  drawn  sword,  feasts  of  Sicily 
Will  have  no  sweets,  the  melody 

Of  birds  and  lyre  will  have  no  charm 

To  bring  back  sleep.    Sleep  calm  and  bland 
Scorns  not  the  cots  of  labouring  men, 
Nor  shady  banks  of  stream!  or  glen, 

Nor  Tempe's  vale  by  Zephyrs  fanned. 

What  is  enough — that  and  no  more — 

Who  craves  but  this,  nor  rough  sea  frets, 
Nor  storms  that,  when  Arcturus  sets, 

Or  the  Kid  rises,  rage  and  roar, 


88 

Nor  hails  that  lash  his  vines,  nor  land 

That  cheats  his  hopes,  while  trees  complain 

Of  stars  that  scorch  the  fields,  of  rain, 
Of  the  fierce  jfrip  of  Winter's  hand. 
"Ruge  moles,  thrust  out,  narrow  the  sea 

For  fish,  where  the  contractor's  band, 

And  owner,  weary  of  the  land, 
Cast  chips  into  the  masonry. 
But  Fear  and  Menace  climb  as  hififh. 

As  climbs  the  lord — twin  frets  of  mind — 

On  bronze-beaked  trireme,  and  behind 
Rider,  sits  black  Anxiety. 
But,  if  nor  Phryjfian  stone,  nor  dress 

Sheeny  as  stars,  nor  vineries 

Falemian,  nor  Achaemenes' 
Perfumes,  can  soften  his  distress, 
Why  build  with  portals  of  desire 

A  hall,   new-planned   to  threat  the   sky? 

Why  change  my  Sabine  snuprgery 
For  wealth  whose  burdens  fret  and  tire? 


Od.  III.  3. 

WHO  loves  the  Right,  whose  will  is  resolute. 
His  purpose  naught  can  shake — not  rage  of 
brute 
Mob  bidding  him  work  evil:  not  the  eye 
Of  threatening  despot:  not  the  tyranny 
Of  Auster,  lord  of  Hadria's   restless   sea: 
Not  Jove's  great  hand,  red  with  artillery; 
A  shattered  world,  falling  in  ruins,  might 
Crush  him;  his  dauntless  soul  it  will  not  fright. 
"Thus  Pollux  and  Alcmene's  roaming  son 
Up  to  the  flaming  heights  of  heaven  won; 


89 

Thus,  seated  at  their  side,  Augustus  sips 

The  nectar  of  the  Gods  with  radiant  lips. 

Thus,  Father  Bacchus,  as  in  homage  due 

To  thy  deserts,  tigers  unbroken  drew 

Thy  car;  thus  in  the  chariot  of  Mars 

Quirinus  rose  o'er  Acheron  to  the  stars, 

When  to  the  Gods  in  council  came  the  word 

Of  Juno — gracious  speech,  and  gladly  heard — 

"O  Ilion,  Ilion,  by  a  judge  obscene, 

A  wretch  accursed,  and  by  a  foreign  quean, 

Rolled  in  the  dust — aye,  damned  and  unforgiven, 

Since  false  Laomedon  broke  faith  with  Heaven, 

By  me  and  chaste  Minerva — reprobate, 

People  and  perjured  king — one  folk,  one  fate! 

Aye,  but  no  longer  does  the  guest  infame 

Trick  himself  out  for  Sparta's  harlot-dame; 

No  longer  Priam's  faithless  house  beats  back. 

With  Hector's  aid,  Achaia's  fierce  attack; 

Prolonged  by  our  disputes,  the  weary  war's 

Offence  is  over  now;  forthwith  to  Mars 

Will  I  give  up  my  anger,  and  my  hate 

Toward  my  grandson,  whom  his  earth-born  mate. 

The  Trojan  priestess,  bare.    To  him  will  I 

Grant  entrance  where  on  shining  couches  lie 

The  blessed;  nectar  shall  he  quaff,  and  find 

Among  the  untroubled  Gods  his  rank  assigned. 

The  wide  world  thro',  so  long  as  angry  seas 

Part  Rome  and  Ilion,  wheresoe'er  they  please, 

Let  Trojan  exiles  lord  it,  safe  and  blest; 

So  long  as  herds  leap  o'er  the  tombs,  where  rest 

Priam  and  Paris,  and  wolves,  scatheless,  hide 

Their  younglings,  let  the  Capitol,  in  its  pride. 

Stand  glorious,  and  let  the  might  and  awe 

Of  Rome  rule  conquered  Medes,  and  be  their  law. 

Feared  far  and  wide,  let  her  extend  her  sway 


To  earth's  remotest  bounds,  where  Africa 
And  Europe  face  the  intervening:  main, 
And  Nile  inundant  floods  the  Egyptian  plain. 
Let  her  be  rather  bold  to  scorn  the  Rold 
That  earth  conceals — 'tis  better  hid — than  bold 
To  gather  it  up  with  prreedy  hands  that  seize 
All  sacred  things  for  human  usages. 
Whatever  limits  bound  the  world,  her  war 
Shall  compass  them,  exultant  to  explore 
Where  sunflames  hold  their  maddest  revelry. 
Where  dews  are  rains,  and  fog-banks  cloak  the  sky. 
But  to  Quirinus'  braves  I  prophesy 
This  future  on  the  terms  that  niety 
Too  great,  and  self -trust,  seek  not  to  restore 
Dead  Troy — the  Troy  their  forbears  built  of  yore. 
The  fate  of  Troy,  with  evil  augury 
Reborn,  shall  once  again  spell  tragedy. 
When  I,  Jove's  queen  and  sister,  lead  the  foe 
Whose  conquering  hosts  achieve  her  overthrow. 
Tho*  thrice  the  bronzen  wall  from  ruins  rose. 
By  Phoebus  built,  thrice  would  Achaian  blows, 
My  champions',  fell  it;  thrice  would  captive  wife 
Wail  lord  and  sons,  slain  in  the  battle-strife." 
Such  songs  as  these  suit  not  my  sportive  lyre; 
Whither,  my  Muse,  would'st  soar?     Stay  thy  desire 
Headstrong  to  tell  what  the  high  Gods  may  say. 
And  shrink  a  theme  sublime  with  lowly  lay. 


Od.  III.  4- 

COME  down  from  heaven,  royal  Calliope; 
Breathe  on  the  pipe  a  deathless  melody. 
Or  sing  a  song — sing  it  with  clarion  voice. 
Or  to  the  harp  of  Phoebus — ^thine  the  choice. 


41 

Hear  ye  her  strain?     Or  does  a  frenzy  kind 

Mock  me?     I  seem  to  hear  it,  and  to  wind 

My  way  thro'  holy  groves,  where  'neath  the  trees 

Play  pleasant  streamlets  and  a  kindly  breeze. 

Me  on  Apulian  Vultur,  past  the  line 

That  bounds  Apulia,  my  nurse  langsyne, 

The  storied  doves  of  Venus  strewed  with  green 

Leaves,  as  I  slept,  play-tired,  the  sleep  serene 

Of  boyhood,  as  a  sign — a  prodigy — 

For  all  whom  Acherontia's  aerie. 

Or  Bantia's  glades,  shelter,  and  them  whose  toil 

Ploughs  the  rich  tilths  of  low  Forentum's  soil. 

They  marvelled  how  it  was  I  slept  unscathed 

By  deadly  snakes  and  bears:  how  I  was  swathed 

With  sacred  bays,  and  myrtles*  kind  embrace — 

A  child  inspired  by  Heaven's  peculiar  grace. 

Aye,  and  as  yours,  ye  Muses — yours  for  aye — 

I  climb  my  Sabine  hill,  or  make  my  way 

To  favourite  haunts — Praeneste's  chilly  height, 

Or  Tibur's  slopes,  or  Baiae,  clear  and  bright. 

Because  your  sweet  choirs  love  me  as  their  own, 

Your  fountains  too,  no  death  has  struck  me  down — 

Not  sad  Philippi's  rout,  not  the  curst  tree, 

Not  Palinurus  on  Sicilian  sea. 

With  you  beside  me,  as  a  seaman,  I 

Will  brave  mad  Bosphorus  right  willingly; 

With  you,  as  traveller,  will  wander  o'er 

The  burning  sands  of  far  Assyria's  shore. 

The  stranger-hating  Britons  will  I  greet: 

The  Concani  who  drink,  and  count  it  sweet, 

The  blood  of  horses:  the  Geloni  armed 

With  quivers:  Scythia's  river — all  unharmed. 

You  too  to  mighty  Caesar,  soon  as  he 

Has  settled  in  the  towns  where  they  would  be 

His  war-worn  troops,  and  from  his  toils  would  cease, 


42 

Give,  in  some  jrrot  Pierian,  welcome  peace. 

Gentle  your  counsel;  ^irracious  too,  I  trow, 

Your  joy  in  its  acceptance;  this  we  know — 

Know  it  as  knowinpr  how  it  was  with  him. 

Who  smote  the  impious  Titan  hordes  with  fcrim 

Descending  bolt — ^who  sways  the  windy  sea 

And  sluggish  earth:  whose  one  sole  empery 

Rules  earth's  abodes  and  realms  of  sad  duress. 

Mortals  and  Gods  alike,  in  righteousness. 

Great  had  Jove's  fear  been  when  the  giant  brood, 

Proud  of  their  frightful  arms,  against  him  stood; 

And  when  the  brothers  strove  to  fix  upon 

Shady  Olympus  lofty  Pelion. 

But  what  availed  Tyohon — what  the  strong  hand 

Of  Mimas,  or  Porphyrion's  threatening  stand: 

What  Rhoetus,  or  Enceladus,  the  stark 

Hurler  of  uptom  trees,  with  heaven  for  mark, 

When  Pallas'  sounding  aegis  barred  the  way? 

Here  stood  fierce  Vulcan,  greedy  for  the  fray; 

Dame  Juno  there,  and  he,  whose  shoulders  now 

Bear,  and  shall  ever  bear,  his  mighty  bow: 

Who  with  Castalia's  waters  dewy-bright 

Bathes  his  long  locks:  who  holds,  as  of  birthright, 

All  Lycia's  woods  and  brakes — Phoebus,  adored 

As  Delos'  glory,  and  as  Patara's  lord. 

Force  lackine  counsel  falls  by  its  own  weight; 

Force  temperate  the  Gods  make  yet  more  great— 

The  Gods  who  hate  the  strength  that  would  defv 

Their  righteous  will,  and  plot  iniquity. 

Gyas,  the  hundred-handed,  seals  as  true 

These  maxims:  infamous  Orion  too. 

For  foul  assault  on  chaste  Minerva  known, 

And  by  her  virgin  arrows  smitten  down. 

On  her  own  monsters  heaped,  with  many  a  wail 

Earth  weeps  her  sons  hurled  down  to  Orcus's  pale 


48 

By  thunder-bolts,  whose   fires,  haste   as   they  will 
To  eat  thro'  Aetna's  pile,  are  prisoners  still. 
The  jailor- vulture,  lechery's  penalty. 
Still  ^ruards  the  lustful  Tityos  ceaselessly, 
And  ^aws  his  liver;  chains  three  hundred  hold 
Pirithous  captive,  for  love  over-bold. 


Od.  III.  6. 

FOR  sins  of  ancestors  will  you  atone, 
Roman,  what  tho'  the  sins  were  not  your  own, 
Till  you  repair  the  high  Gods'  sanctuaries. 
Their  tottering  fanes,  their  smoke-grimed  images. 
You  rule  the  world  because  to  heaven  you  bow. 
Hence  nations  rise  and  fall;  often  ere  now, 
Angered  by  man's  neglects,  the  Gods  have  hurled 
Distress  and  anguish  on  the  Western  world. 
Once  and  again  Monaeses  and  the  horde 
Of  Pacorus  have  broke  our  unblest  sword, 
And,  booty-laden,  add  with  grin&,ng  glee 
To  their  few  tores  our  captured  nnery. 
Dacian  and  Aethiop  have  well  nigh  wracked 
Our  city,  with  its  civil  wars  distract — 
The  Aethiop,  by  sea  no  puny  foe: 
The  Dacian,  master  of  the  twanging  bow. 
Fruitful  in  crime,  the  ages  as  they  ran 
First  fouled  the  marriage-bond,  the  home,  the  clan; 
Thence  sprang  a  flood  of  ill — a  flood  that  broke 
In  on  our  hapless  country  and  our  folk. 
The  girl  grows  up  to  learn  the  Ionic  dance, 
And,  even  now,  with  stage-tricks  would  enhance 
Her  charms,  who  dreams,  her  inmost  heart  within. 
Of  loves  unlawful — aye,  and  hugs  her  sin. 


Not  of  such  parentafire  or  such  a  strain 
Were  they  who  dyed  with.vjjlood  the  l*unic  main — 
The  youth,  whose  war  brok6  Pyrrhus,  and  ctfuld  quell 
Antiochus,  and  Hannibal,  the  fell. 
Nay,  'twas  a  brood,  stalwart  and  masculine. 
Of  yeomen-soldiers — lads,  who  with  Sabine 
Spades  turned  the  clods,  and,  as  stem  mothers  bid, 
Shouldered  their  piles  of  t&trf^ots,  kid  by  kid, 
To  bring  them  home  what  time  the  sun  should  shift 
The  shi^ows,  and  from  weary  oxen  lift 
Their  yokes,  with  partinjf  chariot  speedinj?  on 
The  friendly  hour  when  the  day's  work  is  done. 
What  has  it  not  debased,  this  present  curse? 
<>-    Our  parents'  ajfe,  th^n  our  firrandparents'  worse. 
Has  brouirht  us  forth,  who  shall  besret,  ah  shame! 
Children  yet  more  unworthy  Rome's  fn*eat  name. 

Od.  III.  7. 

WHY  weep,  Asterie,  your  swain 
Constant  and  leal,  whom  Zephyrs  clear 
With  the  new  sprine  will  brinj?  ag:ain 

To  you,  enriched  with  Thynian  gear, 
Gyges?    He,  driven  by  Southern  gales 

To  far-off  Oricum,  when  rose 
The  Goat's  mad  star,  sleepless  bewails 

Thro'  chilly  nights  his  wants  and  woes. 
And  yet  his  hostess,  love-sick  dame. 

Sends  messages  that  Chloe  sighs. 
Poor  soul,  wiUi  love  like  yours  aflame, 

And  artful  tempts  him  manywise. 
She  tells  how  a  false  wife  of  yore 

Urged  Proetus,  credulous  husband,  on. 
By  charges  false,  to  slay  before 


45 

His  time  too  chaste  Bellerophon: 
How  Peleus  'scaped  death-penalty 

Hardly,  who  fled,  wise  heart  and  pure, 
Magnesian  Hippolyte, 

And  brings  up  tales  with  sinful  lure, 
In  vain;  tiian  rocks  Icarian 

More  deaf,  he  hears  the  words  heart-whole. 
Beware  you,  lest  your  neighbour-man 

Enipeus  over-please  your  soul; 
Tho'  never  another  cavalier 

On  Martian  sward  attracts  such  gaze, 
Nor  Tuscan  Tiber  knows  his  peer 

Of  all  who  swim  its  watery  ways. 
At  nightfall  close  your  doors,  nor  eye 

The  streets  below  what  time  you  hear 
Flute's  plaintive  notes,  and  to  the  cry, 

That  calls  you  cruel,  turn  deaf  ear. 

Od,  III.  8, 

MARCH  has  come  in.    You  would  find  out 
What  I,  a  bachelor,  am  about — 
What  mean  these  flowers,  these  incense-bowls, 
liiese  live  sods  topped  with  kindled  coals. 
You  doubt,  tho'  Roman  tales  you  know. 
And  Greek.     Well,  Liber  claims  a  vow — 
Feast  and  white  goat — vowed  when  the  tree, 
That  fell,  all  but  demolished  me. 
Each  year  this  festal  day  shall  see 
Its  pitch-sealed  cork  drawn  faithfully 
From  out  a  jar  that,  cellared  here. 
First  drank  the  smoke  in  Tullus'  year. 
For  my  escape,  and  for  my  sake, 
A  hundred  cups,  Maecenas,  take; 
Keep  the  lamps  lit  till  dawn  of  day; 


46 

Clamour  and  brawls — Avaunt!    Away! 

Dismiss  all  public  cares;  no  more 

Will  Thracian  Cotiso  wajare  war; 

The  hostile  Parthians'  civic  strife 

Hurts  only  their  own  country's  life. 

In  Spain  our  old  Cantabrian  foe 

Obeys  the  mijfht  that  laid  him  low 

At  last;  the  Scythians  think  to  slack 

Their  bows,  and  from  their  plains  fall  back. 

Here  lust  a  citizen,  abate 

Thoughts  over-anxious  for  the  State; 

Care-free,  enjoy  for  this  brief  hour 

The  sweet  of  life;  forgret  the  fiour. 


Od.  III.  p. 

He. 

WHILE  you  were  happy  in  my  love, 
And  no  more  favoured  swain  mifrht  flin^ 
Round  your  white  neck  his  arms,  I  throve. 
More  blest  than  any  Persian  king. 

She. 
While  yet  you  had  no  other  flame, 

Ere  Chloe  ousted  Lydia, 
I,  Lydia,  throve — a  maid  of  fame. 

Who  outshone  Roman  Ilia. 

He. 
Chloe  of  Thrace  is  now  my  queen, 

Skilled  in  the  lyre's  sweet  strains,  for  whom 
111  never  fear  to  die,  I  ween. 

If  but  fate  lift  my  true  life's  doom. 


47 

She. 
Me  Ornytus'  son,  Calais, 

The  Thurine,  fires,  who  am  his  joy; 
For  whom  I'd  die  twice  o'er,  ywis, 

If  but  the  fates  will  spare  my  boy. 
He. 
What  if  with  yoke  that  shall  abide 

Old  love  knits  sundered  hearts  once  more? 
What  if  blonde  Chloe's  cast  aside, 

And  Lydia  scorned  re-opes  her  doorlj  ? 
She. 
Tho'  he  is  brighter  than  a  star. 

And  you  than  cork  are  lighter — aye, 
Than  boisterous  Hadria  rougher  far, 

With  you  I'd  live:  with  you  I'd  die. 

Od,  IIL  12. 

POOR  girls!    We  may  not  give  our  love  free  play, 
Or  drown  in  wine  our  sense  of  hurt  and  wrong, 
Or,  if  we  do,  must  bear,  as  best  we  may. 

The  deadly  lashes  of  an  uncle's  tongrue. 
Venus'  winged  cherub  steals  your  wicker-tray. 

Poor  Neobule;  the  bright  radiancy 
Of  Liparaean  Hebrus  takes  away 

The  webs  of  throng  Minerva's  industry, 
When  he  has  bathed,  returning  from  the  lists. 

In  Tiber's  flood  his  shoulders  oiled;  as  knight, 
A  greater  than  Bellerophon;  quick  fists, 

Quick  feet,  give  him  the  palm  in  race  or  fight. 
Skilled  he  to  shoot  in  the  open  stags  that  rush 

Forth,  when  the  herd  is  driven  from  its  lay; 
And  swift  to  meet  the  boar,  couched  in  the  brush 

Of  some  dense  thicket,  as  it  breaks  away. 


48 


Od.  III.  17. 


Q  PRUNG,  noble  Aelius,  from  Lamus  old, 

^        (Since,  as  folk  say,  'twas  he  who  srave  their 

name 
To  early  Lamiae,  and — the  annals  hold 

The  proofs  of  this — ^the  entire  clan  can  claim 
Descent  from  him  who  was,  'tis  said,  first  kins: 

Of  Formiae,  and  of  the  country-side. 
Where  on  Marica's  coasts,  meanderinj?. 

Slow  Liris  swims,  lord  of  dominions  wide) 
To-morrow  will  the  East  Wind  brinj?  a  blast. 

Shall  strew  with  useless  weed  the  shore,  with 
leaves 
The  woods,  unless  the  asred  crow's  forecast, 

Its  prophecy  of  coming:  rain,  deceives 
Our  ears.    Get  in,  then,  while  the  weather's  fine. 

Dry  wood;  to-morrow  will  you  chase  away 
Your  Genius'  cares  with  sucking  piRr  and  wine, 

Makinfl:,  with  all  your  household,  holiday. 


Od.  111.  20. 

SEE  you  not,  Pyrrhus,  at  what  risk  you  steal 
Her  cubs  from  a  Gaetulian  lioness? 
Soon,  very  soon,  as  robber,  will  you  feel 

Her  wrath,  and  know  fli^rht's  terror  and  distress. 
What  time  she  comes,  thro'  ranks  that  seek  to  bar 

Her  way,  to  claim  Nearchus,  her  delijfht — 
To  settle  whose  shall  be  the  spoils  of  war. 

Her  prize  or  rather  yours — a  famous  fijfht. 
Meantime,  they  say,  while  she  whets  her  fierce  fanjifs, 

And  you  are  f^ettin^  out  your  arrows  fleet. 


49 

He,  on  whose  will  the  battle's  issue  hanjrs, 
Tramples  upon  the  palm  with  naked  feet, 

While  on  his  shoulders  and  his  scented  hair, 

That  round  about  them  falls,  plays,  as  it  wills, 

A  soft  refreshing  breeze — as  Nireus  fair, 
Or  Ganymede,  rapt  up  from  Ida's  rills. 


Od,  III.  21. 

OBORN  with  me  in  Manlius'  year, 
Good  jar,  whatever  jrifts  you  bear — 
Jokes,  quarrels,  strife,  mad  love»,  light  sleep — 
To  whatsoever  end  you  keep 
Choice  Massic,  come,  for  to  yourself 
You  owe  the  move,  down  from  your  shelf, 
On  this  glad  day;  for  mellower  brands 
Corvinus  calls;  his  wish  commands. 
Steeped  in  the  Schools'  philosophy. 
He's  yet  no  boor  to  pass  you  by. 
Why,  oftentimes — so  we  are  told — 
Wine  warmed  stem  Cato's  soul  of  old. 
You  rack  dull  wits  full  tenderly. 
Unveil  hid  wisdom's  mystery. 
And  straight  the  wise  man's  cares  depart, 
As  gay  Lyaeus  glads  his  heart. 
Hope  cheers  the  anxious  by  your  gift; 
The  weakling's  horn  on  high  you  lift; 
Heartened  by  you  he  laughs  at  fear 
Of  diademed  kings,  of  sword  and  spear. 
Liber,  and  Venus,  if  she's  good: 
The  Graces'  close-knit  sisterhood. 
And  live  lamps  still  shall  lead  you  on 
While  Dawn  is  bidding  stars  begone. 


50 


Od.  Ill,  23,    ' 

WHITHER,  O  Bacchus,  bearest  me  inspired? 
Into  what  j^'oves,  what  grottoes,  am  I  now 
Hurried,  by  new  thouj?hts  swept  alonj?  and  fired? 

What  caves  shall  hear  me  meditating  how 
I  may  exalt  great  Caesar's  fame  for  aye 

To  Jove's  high  council,  and  the  starry  skies? 
My  song  shall  be  sublime  and  new,  a  lay 

None  other  yet  has  sung.    Not  otherwise 
Than  Euhiad,  in  nightlong  revelry 

Upon  the  hills,  is  ravished  as  her  eye 
Scans  Hebrus,  snow-white  Thrace,  and  Rhodope, 

By  foot  barbarian  traversed,  so  am  I 
Entranced,  what  time,  by  visions  borne  along, 

I  gaze  on  quiet  groves  and  riverside. 
0  Lord  of  Naiads,  and  Bacchantes,  strong 

To  overturn  tall  ash-trees*  towering  pride. 
Naught  petty,  naught  unworthy  its  high  due, 

Not  death  itself,  shall  touch  this  song  of  mine. 
Tis  a  sweet  risk,  Lenaean,  to  ensue 

The  God  who  wreathes  his  brows  with  pliant 
vine. 


Od.  III.  28. 

\Y/HAT  could  I  better  do  on  Neptune's  day? 
^^     Lyde,  be  quick  and  broach  the  Caecuban 
Hid  in  your  store,  and  with  me  make  foray 

On  wisdom's  fortress — that's  my  present  plan. 
Midday  is  past;  you  see  how  Phoebus'  car 

Sinks;  yet  as  tho'  the  flying  day  stood  still. 
You  pause,  as  loth  to  bring  the  lingering  jar. 


51 

That  erst  the  year  of  Bibulus  bade  you  fill. 
Now  will  we  sing  in  turn — of  Neptune  I, 

And  f?reen-haired  Nereids;  your  part  shall  be 
To  sing  to  your  curved  lyre  Latona,  aye, 

And  flying:  Cynthia's  fierce  artillery. 
Lastly  the  Cnidian  queen  shall  be  our  theme, 

Who  holds  the  shining  Cyclades  in  fee, 
And  visits  Paphos'  isle  with  swans  for  team; 

Night  too  shall  have  her  meed  of  elegy. 


Od.  IV.  2. 

WHO  seeks  to  rival  Pindar,  he 
Upsoars  on  wings  waxed  with  the  skill, 
Julus,  of  Daedalus,  and  will 

Name  with  his  name  some  glassy  sea. 

As  stream  that  down  the  mountain's  steep, 
Above  its  banks  by  rains  uplift, 
Rushes,  so  surges  Pindar  swift 

With  boundless  flood,  with  utterance  deep. 

Worthy  Apollo's  bays  is  he. 

Whether  in  dithyrambs  bold  he  pours 
Forth  words  new-formed,  or  song  that  wars 

Against  all  laws  of  poetry; 

"VN^ether  he  hymns  Gods,  or  acclaims 

Kings  bom  of  Gods,  whose  valour  slew 
The  Centaurs — righteous  doom  and  due — 

And  quenched  Chimaera's  fearsome  flames; 

Or  tells  of  heroes  glorified 

By  palm  Olympian,  of  steed, 

Of  boxer,  bringing  to.  them  a  meed 

A  hundred  statues  could  not  side; 

Or,  wailing  bridegroom  rapt  away 

From  weeping  bride,  exalts  on  high 


52 

His  fitrength,  soul,  sroMen  courtesy, 

And  grudges  Orcus'  jfloom  its  prey. 

Stron;?  is  the  breeze  that  lifts  the  swan 
Dircaean,  Antony,  what  time 
To  heifrhts  of  cloud-land  it  would  climb. 

I,  as  a  Matine  bee  drones  on, 

CuUinfi:  the  thyme's  sweets  toilfully 

By  watery  Tibur's  prroves  and  braes. 
Fashion,  a  humble  bard,  my  lays 

With  pains  of  strenuous  industry. 

A  poet,  you,  of  nobler  quill 

Shall  sing  of  Caesar  when,  with  well 
Earned  bays  enwreathed,  he  leads  the  fell 

^gambri  down  the  Sacred  Hill; 

Than  whom  Fate  and  kind  deities 

Have  given  naught  better,  naught  that  is 
Greater,  to  earth,  nor  will,  ywis. 

Give,  tho'  the  Golden  Age  re-rise. 

Of  feasts  and  games  your  song  shall  be — 

Our  thanks  for  answered  prayers  that  gave 
Back  to  our  arms  Augustus  brave — 

And  Forum  from  all  law-suits  free. 

Then  too  my  voice,  if  not  in  vain 

Its  utterance,  shall  come  in,  and  say, 
Full-toned,  "O  fair,  O  happy  day!" 

For  joy  that  Caesar's  home  again. 

And,  as  you  lead  the  way,  we'll  raise, 
Not  once  alone,  our  triumph-shout, 
Ho  Triumph! — all  will  peal  it  out. 

And  offer  Heaven  incense  in  praise. 

Your  debt  ten  bulls,  as  many  cows. 
Shall  quit;  a  calf  will  set  me  free — 
A  youngling  weaned,  that  on  lush  lea 

Grows  to  its  strength  to  pay  my  vows. 

Whose  brow,  with  homlets  newly  grown, 


•    •  •  *.  • 


53 

Copies  the  young  moon's  crescent  rays, 
At  its  third  rise;  it  shows  a  blaze, 
A  birth-mark;  elsewhere  'tis  red-roan. 

Od.  IV.  3. 

HE  on  whose  birth,  Melpomene, 
Thou  once  for  all  hast  set  thine  eye. 
Thy  placid  gaze,  shall  never  be 

A  boxer,  famed  for  mastery 
In  Isthmian  games;  no  fiery  steeds 

Shall  draw  him  in  Achaean  car 
To  victory,  nor  shall  mighty  deeds 

Display  him,  as  a  man  of  war. 
To  Rome's  heart,  crowned  with  Delian  bays, 

Because  he  cast  proud  tyrants  down. 
But  Tibur's  thickly  wooded  braes. 

And  streams,  shall  rear  him  to  renown. 
With  lyric  song.    As  for  rewards. 

To  me  poetic  rank  the  youth 
Of  Rome,  of  cities  queen,  accords. 

And  blunted  now  is  envy's  tooth. 
Muse  of  the  golden  lyre,  whose  art 

Tempers  its  strings  to  harmony: 
Who  could'st,  were  it  thy  will,  impart 

To  voiceless  fish  the  swan's  clear  cry: 
That  as  Rome's  minstrel-bard  I'm  hailed 

By  passers'  fingers  lift  to  me: 
My  breath,  and,  if  I  have  not  failed 

To  charm,  my  charm — 'tis  all  of  thee! 

Od.  IV.  II. 

I  HAVE  a  cask  of  Alban,  more 

*      Than  nine  years  old;   my  garden-grounds, 

Phyllis,  of  parsley  have  good  store. 


54 

For  chaplets  meet;  ivy  abounds — 
Sprays  that  show  out  your  beauty's  sheen, 

Bindinjf  your  hair;  the  house  looks  good 
With  silver  plate;  with  vervain  green, 
The  altar  claims  a  slain  lamb's  blood. 
All  hands  are  busy;  to  and  fro 

Run  boys  and  girls  in  companies; 
The  fire-flames  flicker  as  they  go 

Upward,  and  black  smoke-eddies  rise. 
What  joys  invite  you?     Well,  the  Ides 

Claim  your  attendance,  be  it  known — 
Mid-April's  feast-day  that  divides 

The  month  that  Venus  counts  her  own: 
Rightly  a  feast  for  me,  well  nigh 

More  sacred  than  my  birth's  event, 
For  from  this  anniversary 

Maecenas  tells  his  life's  ascent. 
You  long  for  Telephus,  a  lad 

Not  of  your  class;  a  wealthy  maid 
Has  snapped  him  up,  and  holds  him,  glad 

To  be  her  prisoner — saucy  jade. 
From  greed's  ambitions  Phaethon 

Consumed  deters;  the  tale  that  tells 
How  Pegasus  flung  Bellerophon, 

Scorning  his  earth-bom  rider,  spells 
Warning  to  you  that  you  should  choose 

Meet  things:  should  cut  too  venturesome 
Hopes  down  as  sinful:  should  refuse 

A  mate  unequal.    Come,  then,  come. 
Last  of  my  loves,  for  not  again 

Shall  I  love  woman;  learn  my  lays, 
That  your  dear  voice  may  lilt  each  strain; 

All  gloom,  all  troubles,  song  allays. 


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